Brethren: An Epic Adventure of the Knights Templar (58 page)

E
verard was sitting at his worktable, sharpening the end of a quill with a small knife. His brow was knotted, his impaired eyes straining to focus on the delicate task. He didn’t look up as Will entered the solar. “Did you get them?”

As Will placed the leather pouch he was carrying on the table, the priest made one decisive scrape with the knife, then set down the quill. Everard pulled open the pouch, pushing the soft dark leather down into folds. The sunlight coming through the window glittered richly off the handful of stones inside: cinnabar, agate, malachite, lapis lazuli. “Beautiful. They’ll make inks to last a thousand years.” Everard looked up at Will as he drew the pouch shut. “I can powder them down tomorrow. Thank you. I would have gone to the market myself, only…” He stood stiffly and took the pouch over to his armoire. “…I hardly find the strength to rise from my bed these days.”

“I want to go to Caesarea, Everard.”

“What?” Everard turned.

“I want to take the treaty.”

Everard stowed the pouch on a shelf and closed the armoire. “How did you hear of it? It hasn’t been announced yet.”

“Robert de Paris was asked to go.”

Everard shook his head. “Well, no matter how you heard, it is out of the question.”

“Why?” asked Will, his voice calm, but slightly flat as he tried to keep his need disguised.

Everard arched a brow. “I think you know why. You hired Assassins to kill the man, for goodness’ sake!”

“It’s because of that that I want to go.”

“Because you failed the first time?” Everard’s tone was sardonic, but worry was plain in his face. He made a flicking movement with his withered hand as if to swat the problem or Will away. “And anyway, the company who will take the peace treaty to Baybars has already been chosen.”

“I know you can talk to Edward, get him to request me on this mission. You can tell him you want a member of the Anima Templi to go. Besides, I’m one of only a few men here who can speak Arabic.” Will continued quickly as the priest started to shake his head. “I want to make it right, Everard. I want to prove to you that I meant what I said before, that day on the battlements when you told me about Kalawun. I do want to stay, to be a part of this work, the work my father began.”

“I know, I know,” said Everard, as if it didn’t need saying.

“Then why have you had me running around playing the errand boy ever since, rather than working on the tasks you’ve set the other Brethren?”

Everard glanced at Will, but didn’t speak.

“Because you don’t trust me,” Will answered for him.

“That isn’t true.”

“It is,” countered Will. “And I don’t blame you. But it’s been six months, Everard! I want to help but I’m sitting around here wasting time. If you do not want me as one of the Brethren then dismiss me, but if you do then let me prove myself to you. Let me make amends for what I did.”

After a moment Everard gave a small nod.

Will’s hope leapt, then sank again as the priest continued.

“You are right. I have kept you from certain tasks because of what you did, but not to punish you. I was merely being cautious. But this mission would not only bring you face to face with a man you wanted dead so desperately that you betrayed everyone and everything to which you had ever sworn an oath of loyalty to achieve it, it will also take you into danger. You know how many men we have sent to treat with Baybars over the years, and how few have returned. He may well use this opportunity to prove how little our peace means to him, slit all your throats and send back your heads in a basket!” Everard sat back down in his chair. “And as much as you have driven me toward an early grave over the years, I actually like your head where it is, William.”

“I don’t believe the sultan would do that,” replied Will. “It would be petty. And whatever else Baybars is, petty he isn’t. But either way, I want to do this.” Will’s voice was still calm, but need was creeping into his tone. “I’ve never asked you for anything else, Everard, not for myself. But I’m asking you now, let me do this.”

Everard picked up the quill and the knife, then put them back down with an irritated sigh. “You swear to me you will not do anything foolish?” He shook his head quickly before Will could answer. “No, not swear to me, swear on your father’s name!”

“I swear it, Everard.” Will held his gaze. “I won’t let you down again.”

After a long pause, Everard nodded.

The stables were sweltering, the air clotted with trapped heat and the smell of dung. Simon was heaving sacks of precious oats up to the hayloft. Every so often he would shake off the flies that droned persistently around his head, causing sweat to drip from his nose and brow. His muscles were aching and his cheeks, already ruddy from the sun, were mottled an even deeper red with the exertion. Setting down a sack, he bent to pick up a jar of water from the floor.

“Simon?”

The voice made him straighten so quickly that he banged his head on a manger. With a curse, he dropped the jar, which broke apart, and he spun around, one hand clasped to his head.

In the entrance, silhouetted by the white light outside, was a tall woman with copper-gold hair. Simon had recognized her voice even before he had turned, but it was still a shock to see her standing there, solid and tangible, in her rose-colored gown. She was a sight he had both longed for and dreaded every day of the last four years.

“I got your letter,” said Elwen. She looked older, calmer.

“I didn’t think you would come.”

“Neither did I. Not for a long time. But I always wanted to see the Holy Land.”

Wiping his hands on his tunic, Simon went tentatively over to her. “How did you get here?”

“On a merchant’s ship.”

“The queen let you leave?”

“It was at Queen Marguerite’s bidding that I left. After King Louis’ body was brought back to Paris and we buried him in Saint-Denis, the palace became a place of mourning. Many of the other servants left because they couldn’t bear to live there without him. I decided to stay. When I got your letter I tore it up,” Elwen shrugged, “but I kept the pieces. I don’t know why. The queen found them one day and made me tell her what it meant.”

Simon blushed to think that the queen knew his secret.

“She said I should go,” continued Elwen. “She said I shouldn’t waste an opportunity to find love because there are too few of them in life as it is. I don’t know if that is what I have here; Will’s a knight and I know he can’t…” Elwen faltered. “I just wanted to tell you that I got your message.” Her green eyes studied him for a long moment. “And that I understand why you did what you did.”

Simon looked away. “Do you want to see Will?” he said quietly.

“He’s here? I didn’t know if…” Elwen took a breath and nodded. “I think so. Yes,” she added, with greater conviction. “Yes, I do.” She glanced over her shoulder toward the main gate, where several sergeants were standing sentry. “But I had best not draw too much attention to myself. The guards only let me in because I said I was the Grand Master’s niece.” She grinned suddenly and Simon caught a glimpse of the mischievous girl who had stowed away on board the
Endurance
all those years ago.

“Right.” He looked around the stables, which were deserted. Most of the sergeants were in the Great Hall for the midday meal, although they would be finished anytime now. Simon headed over to the storehold, where the saddles and tack were kept. “You can hide in here if you like?” He opened the door. “I can go and find Will for…” His voice cracked and he had to cough to clear the thickness in his throat. “I can bring him to you.”

As Simon spoke, Elwen watched him shuffle awkwardly, his thick, muscled arms hanging stiff by his sides, fists bunched, eyes downward, unable to meet hers. In his face she saw the dispute between his words and his feelings. She felt like a thief. “Thank you,” she said softly, hoping that was enough.

Will was heading from the knights’ quarters when he saw Simon trudging across the yard. The groom glanced in his direction, came to a stop, then half raised his hand. Four young sergeants ran across the gap between them, laughing. When they had passed, Will saw the groom’s expression. He crossed the yard, which was gradually filling with men and boys, the midday meal having ended. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” replied Simon quickly, relaxing his face.

Will raised an eyebrow. “By the look on you I’d say someone had just died.”

Simon made a valiant attempt at a smile. “No. Everything’s fine. It’s…well I just had a bit of a surprise is all.”

“A surprise?”

“Will.”

They both turned to see Robert heading toward them. His fine blond hair, swept back in a tail, was bleached almost as white as his mantle.

Robert nodded to Simon, then grasped Will’s shoulder companionably. “Did you speak to Everard?”

“I did.”

“And?”

“He agreed to talk to Edward.”

“Good,” said Robert, grinning. “Then we face the Crossbow together.”

“Will,” murmured Simon. “We need to go.”

Will glanced at him distractedly. “Just tell me what it is.”

Simon went to speak, then shook his head. “I think it’s best you see for yourself.”

Turning, he moved back the way he had come.

Will smiled bemusedly at Robert. “I think he’s been working in the sun too long. I’ll talk to you in a minute.”

Robert nodded. “I’ll be in the armory.”

“Wait then,” called Will, following the groom.

Simon didn’t slow, but kept on walking toward the stable yard.

As they approached the stables, Will came to a stop. “Simon,” he said, lightly, but firmly, when the groom went to head inside.

Simon turned.

“I don’t have time for games. Tell me what this is about. I’ve got things to do.”

“Just come in here a moment,” insisted Simon, disappearing inside.

Will sighed irritably, but followed him in. Simon was standing by the storehold, his face, shadowed in the oppressive gloom, unreadable. He opened the door, then stepped away. Will, frowning now, made uneasy by his friend’s odd manner, walked forward. He stopped dead in the doorway, as the woman inside turned to face him. Thin shafts of sun slanted through cracks in the back wall, catching her in a fragile web of gold. Will’s mouth dried up and with it the thousand words that burst into his mind demanding to be shouted out at once. After the initial flood of exclamations and rushing, tumbling thoughts, just one word remained. He said it in a strange, calm voice that didn’t sound like his own.

“Elwen.”

She smiled slightly. “Hello, Will Campbell.”

Will took a step toward her, not noticing Simon shutting the door quietly behind him.

Silence descended. And with every second that slipped by it stretched out, encompassing them. The confined, sun-shot room, which smelled overpoweringly of leather and dung, seemed to expand and become the whole world. The feeling was so intense, Will started to feel dizzy. He realized he hadn’t taken a breath, or taken his eyes off Elwen since he had entered the place. He moved and looked away from her, and his surroundings seemed to diminish and come back into focus.

“How are you?” said Elwen, watching him.

Will shook his head. “Fine.” He shook his head again, then glanced at her. “And you?”

“I am well.”

Will suddenly stepped forward, his eyes fixing on hers. “Elwen, I never meant to leave like that. I never meant anything to change the way it did, for any of it to happen. Any of it,” he repeated firmly.

“Why did you leave then?” she answered, her tone changing, becoming serious, accusatory. “Why were you with…?” She stopped, looked away, then met his gaze quickly, fiercely. “Why were you with that girl?”

Will gave a drawn-out sigh. He rubbed at his forehead. “Do you remember the book Everard asked you to take for him?”

“The one I took from the troubadour? Of course.”

“And do you remember I had to go after someone who had stolen it from us?”

“Yes,” she murmured, “you told me when we met at the palace. When you asked me to be your wife.”

Will studied the floor. “That evening, when Everard and I were getting ready to leave, Garin de Lyons sent me a letter, pretending it was from you. In it, he asked me to meet him at that tavern.” Will shrugged helplessly. “I went there thinking I was going to meet you. I was captured by a man who wanted the book for himself. They made me tell them where it was and Garin drugged me, put me on the bed in that room and left me there.”

“Garin?” said Elwen, her brow furrowed in confusion and anger. Simon had told her very little in the letter, only that he had lied to her, having known Will was drugged. “Why would he do that?”

“He was forced to do it by the man who captured me.” Will shook his head. “It doesn’t really matter; that man is dead and Garin is in prison, all I need you to know is that I wasn’t there willingly.”

“And the girl? How could you have let her do that? You must have been able to stop her. She was only young and you’re…”

“Let her do it?” Will interrupted. “I didn’t
let
her do anything.” His voice was hard, cold. He paused, checked his anger, and spoke again. “I was drugged. I didn’t know what was happening. I can only recall part of it.” He frowned, as if either trying to remember or to close his mind to the memory. “I think for a time I thought she was you. The sleeping draft and the fact that I had gone there to meet you, it just made me think that. Then, when I realized it wasn’t you, I was paralyzed. I couldn’t even speak.”

Elwen nodded slowly. “If all that is true, why did you not explain it to me? Why did you leave and never come back?” Her eyes filled with tears and she turned away abruptly.

Will wanted to go to her, but couldn’t. “The next morning, as soon as I knew what had happened I wanted to see you, but Everard stopped me. I…I don’t know why I listened to him. I don’t really remember. I think I was confused still. He told me about Garin and I…”

“You wanted revenge more than you wanted me,” she said, turning back to face him. But her tone was now matter-of-fact, rather than accusatory.